Happy Thoughts
by CapsicleAndMetalMan
Summary: (TRIGGER WARNING)An AU in which Steve and Tony are both happily dating (and living together) during high school. However, one night, a simple mistake turns into hell for the both of them, making them turn on each other. Steve and Tony are left battling a new form of problems on their own. Not only is their relationship failing, but their mental stability starts to crumble as well.
1. Chapter 1:Tony

In all my life, I would have never thought I'd fall in love with the forty pound, disease prone, asthmatic boy that sat next to me in the second grade.

I mean, I wouldn't say it was impossible to like a guy like Steven Rogers. Believe me, if you don't like Steve Rogers, then you're pretty damn fucked up in my book. He's the entire package deal for Christ's sake.

With the golden blonde hair that catches the sun's rays just right, combed neatly on top of his head, his bangs skimming the edge of his eyebrows, which hover above pale blue eyes full of sincerity is enough to make anybody instantly attracted to him. How the hell can eyes be full of sincerity or any adjective or noun for that matter you may be asking- hell if I knew to be quite honest. But Steve has been known to possess some pretty impressive traits as I've been telling you.

He has a hell of a jaw line that meets at a strong chin that can make any girl feel a pang of agony over the fact that he's gay. (Unless you're Natasha Romanov... and if you are, I swear to God I'll get you those ten bucks by next week) Oh and his body- Jesus Christ did puberty ever do Steve a favor.

Steve Rogers went from this pale, sickly little boy carrying his inhaler everywhere in too-big jeans as he huffed and puffed through the simplest of tasks. But one glorious, mystical day, baby Jesus opened up the clouds with a beam of light that shone upon Steve's little head that was just barely five feet off the ground.

The angels began to sing a tune and the Gods of puberty came down, sprinkling magical dust upon skinny Steve and behold... a young man with beautiful evenly toned muscles with the athletic ability of an Olympian who had a heart of gold was born. (As a witness of Steve's beautiful transformation, I can confirm that this is precisely how it happened)

Mind you, Steve has always had a heart of gold. He saves kittens from trees as a hobby and helps old ladies cross the street- even after they've sprayed him with pepper spray. Steve was just too kind- always has been and that is just one of many reasons why I'm madly in love with him.

How did I get so lucky? To be quite honest, I'm not really sure. But you know what they say- never question greatness.

Not only is Steve an all-around amazing person, but he's also a fantastic pillow. I mean, with all that toned muscle packed on to his tall body, one may think he'd be as hard as a rock, but no. He's like a pillow; a warm pillow that kisses me and smells like after shave and spearmint with a hint of musky cologne.

"Tony, stop squirming." Steve laughs out as I shift my body slightly.

We're laying down on my overstuffed couch- well technically Steve is. I'm lying on top of him, my smaller body dwarfed by his muscular enhanced one. My face rests on his unfortunately sweatshirt-covered chest, giving me the ability to listen to the muffled rhythm of his heartbeat. His hands rest on my lower back, while mine rest on his broad shoulders. His long, built legs extend to the edge of the couch, whereas my sock clad feet hardly reach his shins.

That's the negative of having a God-like human for a boyfriend. No matter what, you're always going to appear shrimp-like next to their larger frame. Steve would tell you that I'm simply tiny. But I swear over the puberty Gods that blessed me with a beautiful boyfriend, I'm perfectly average sized.

I had been tall and gangly once, especially in comparison to skinny, wheezing Steve. I suppose I just peaked early. But on the bright side, I can steal Steve's sweatshirts and be swallowed cozily within the Steve-scented cotton.

"I'm getting comfortable!" I insist as I shift my hips once more. Although Steve is most definitely the perfect pillow that would put all memory foam companies out of business, it still takes some time for me to adjust myself to fit perfectly against his body.

"Well stop." he tells me laughingly.

I simply stick out my tongue at him before positioning my hip bones in a suitable manner against his well defined torso. He laughs and gently pecks me on the lips, weaving his strong fingers through my already tousled brown hair. I close my eyes with his comforting touch. With Steve, I feel a sense of security. I'm content and safe. It's like he protects me from anything in this fucked up world that could ever bring me harm.

"Dinner's almost ready you two." my father (Otherwise known as Howard, which I generally address him by, depending on my mood- he finds it disrespectful for me to do so... but that only makes me want to do it more) says as he enters the living room looking slightly ragged with his wrinkled shirt, crooked tie and the dust of a five o'clock shadow sprinkled across his jaw. Another tough day at the family company I must presume.

My father is basically my mirror image, or at least that's what everyone says when I go into work with him. We share the same thick, unruly dark brown hair. However, he at least makes an effort at taming his locks. I'd rather leave mine sloppy on top of my head for Steve to stroke. Our faces are the same completely down to the nostril size. The only difference is our eyes. His are a pale green color whereas mine are a deep brown color.

The other more significant difference between us would be the height. We're both rather lean with a decent amount of muscle packed onto our frame- obviously not as much as Steve, but enough to say we are "physically fit". On the other hand, my father is much taller than me. I stand almost a whole head shorter than him- which is not short, it is average height.

This is a trait I've inherited from my mother. She was a petite woman with short brown hair that framed her heart shaped face. But she has been gone since I was twelve. And no, she didn't get up and divorce my father, knowing she'd get a more than a necessary amount of cash. (She would have been smart and taken me with her in order to gain child support) Mom was far too sweet for that.

She died of a heart condition known as supraventricular tachycardia, (SVT) which, along with the height issue, I also inherited. And for those who are not educated in the field of can-be-fatal heart conditions that really fucking suck, (Especially during rough sex with your beautiful boyfriend) SVT, in simplest terms, is basically when your heart beats too fast and it causes a whole lot of chest pain. It has also landed me in the hospital far too many times for me to count ever since I had my first attack at fourteen.

"Come on. Hurry up before your food gets cold." Howard ushers irritably.

"Nnngh." I groan, seeing as I had finally found myself perfectly comfortable against Steve's body. I certainly was not in the mood to leave his warm, well-toned, mattress-like body. Nope. Can't do it. Not today. Screw that. I would apologize to Steve if he was hungry, but I've finally made myself a warm spot. Therefore, I am far too cozy to leave his sculpted body.

"Tony," my dad says in the tone of voice known as the 'I'm not in the mood for your obnoxious bullshit right now, Anthony.' But now that I think about it, he always uses that tone with me.

Dad never moved on from mom's death. It changed him. Dad was always full of life and he seemed to always have time for her and I back then. Mom lit his life up with her bubbly smile, bright eyes and contagious laughter. She had that... that thing about her I guess. She had soft hands that would wipe my tears away and a soothing voice that calmed me after a nightmare. When Maria Rose Stark died, she took a piece of Howard with her. He became cold and calculating, throwing himself into his work, consumed by grief. It was then when he began to resent me, I think.

"Later." I whine, which ignited a snort from the hunk of muscle beneath me who is currently rubbing my back. Howard is obviously oblivious to the immense comfort Steve is bringing me. How could I ever remove myself from him now? I can almost feel myself start to drool into Steve's chest as mind numbing relaxation begins to settle while my comfort level increases and Steve's manly scent fills my nostrils.

Most parents- or in my case, guy who is biologically stuck with me, would lose their shit and call the cops if they saw their child in the same position as Steve and I were currently in. Hell, most parents might start screaming the genesis of the Bible if they saw their children sitting less than six inches apart from their significant other.

But Steve happens to live with Howard and I. (No, he's not the sexy servant who wears a too-short maid uniform for me... but to be honest, I wouldn't complain if he did) Steve moved in with us after his father had died in a horrific plane crash just two years ago. His mother had died when he was just nine years old due to cancer. Steve had been such a mess when that happened. I can still remember hugging my best friend as sobs violently shook his skinny frame at her funeral. Steve was so messed up that his father had to carry him out of the service.

Steve and I had been dating for about six months at the time of his father's untimely death. He'd been a wreck and was absolutely terrified about being sent into some foster home. He kept babbling mindlessly between tears about how he'd never see me again and how he was going to be all alone. Yeah... big muscly Steve had completely broke in front of me and that was when I stepped in as his guardian angel. I refused to let the love of my life be sent away into a foster home. He didn't deserve to be with strangers after losing his remaining family.

I had discussed everything with my dad and it was easy to get him to agree with my preposition of adopting Steve into our home. (In a non-incest manner, of course. That would be really awkward for our relationship) Howard loved Steve like his own son—hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to exchange me for Steve.

It had been fairly simple to ensure that Steve would be in our custody instead of some strangers'. I mean, with dad's nationally known title as the 'Greatest Businessman of Our Time!' and our excessive amounts of cash, the courts easily complied with our demands.

Now, Steve lives with us and we freely cuddle anywhere in the house... or mansion, I should say. Although we each still have our own bedrooms, we generally seem to forget seeing as we dominate each other's beds by sleeping with one another. We also refrain from having sex anywhere Howard would walk in on us. You only make that mistake once.

Howard rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed by my bullshit. But as per usual, I feel a slight warmth in my chest, knowing I've gotten a ride out of him. I am most certainly a little shit, and I take utmost pride in that, thank you very much.

I simply nuzzle deeper into the Steve-scented fabric, my nose centered in his pecks now. Jesus, what I'd do to get this blasted hoodie off of him right now. I can already envision it; Steve blushing furiously as I toss away his shirt, begging him to take me right then and there. His blue eyes would widen and a string stuttering drivel would spill from his lips that I would force against my own. He would be shocked at first from the sudden closeness until he finally fell into the kiss with me. His hands would pull at my hair as I would undo my own jeans, leaving me in my shirt and boxer briefs.

Getting impatient, Steve would slip my shirt off of me, followed by his jeans leaving us both clad in nothing but our underwear. Sweet, innocent, perfect Steve would start to show off his rough side as he'd nip playfully at my bottom lip, sliding his hands down my back and onto the curve of my very fine ass. I'd start to sweat with pleasure, my breaths somewhat short. God I'd want him so bad. Such a little tease, he is.

I'd start to beg and Steve would simply laugh at me, continuing his exploration of my body. I'd moan as his hands would slip beneath the band of my underwear. I'd start to bite at his neck, leaving hickeys behind as I made my way back to his strong jaw. Finally, Steve would slip me out of my boxers, tossing them elsewhere. I'd reciprocate the action with his own.

Then, Steve would push me on my back, a smirk ghosting upon his perfect face. He'd straddle over me, ready to give me what I've been wanting all fucking day. He kisses my stomach, sending warmth through my veins. Sweat would begin to bead upon my forehead, and I close my eyes as Steve begins to pull my thighs apart...

Unfortunately with Howard around I am forced to refrain from that beautiful fantasy. Goddammit Howard.

"Tony," Steve's voice whispers huskily into my ear, pulling me away from my vivid thoughts. "Let's go."

"Mmm." I respond. I'm way too cozy and too ecstatic about pissing Howard off, who has his arms crossed, glaring down at me in a way he believes to be formidable, but only amuses me further. Silly father, your annoyance fuels my happiness. But clearly this is all Steve's fault for being so damned cozy.

Suddenly my world is tilted as Steve stands, holding me up. I release a very manly yelp as I find myself in Steve's arms rather than lying cozily on his body.

"Thanks Steve." Howard mutters as he heads towards the dining room.

"Jesus!" I exclaim, not expecting that element of surprise. "Warn a guy!" Steve just chuckles and sets me on my feet.

"You deserved it." Steve chirps, his face smug with victory.

"You're sleeping alone tonight." I mutter as we begin to walk in my father's direction.

"Finally, I'll be rid of the notorious bed hog."

"I take that back."

Steve lets out a laugh as we pull out our mahogany chairs that sit across from each other.

Calling the dining room 'grand' would be an understatement. The room is unexplainably large with ten foot ceilings and arched doorways. The wallpapered walls are adorned with overpriced paintings that are held in polished frames. A large China cabinet is pushed against the wall; full of glasses and other ornamental things that mom would spend her Sunday afternoons polishing whilst humming a tune. Some of our maids and servants had offered to do the somewhat tedious task, but mom had always denied their proposals.

An oriental rug that was imported from France sits under the large mahogany table that can seat up to twenty people which is covered by a lace tablecloth. Above the table hangs a giant chandelier with thousands of little crystals that sparkle beautifully against the gold light. The dining room is just one of the many well put together rooms in the Stark manor. (Far too many rooms if you ask me, but we also have more than enough Benjamin's than we know what to do with)

One may dream endlessly of having a house as large, grand, and professionally decorated as my own, but people fail to notice how lucky they are for their smaller, self-put homes, in my personal opinion. I still vaguely remember entering Steve's home when we first became friends as little kids and being enveloped in the sense that his place was an actual home. There had been shoes littered on the floor, pictures on the walls- some of them showing them not in their most photogenic state, and other little things that proved a family lived in that place.

When you walk into the Stark manor, you never see a single thing on the floor. (Well, unless you enter my room and the floor is the one thing you'll never see) Just pristine, polished perfection surrounds the house. Few pictures are within our home- but they show us with our "professional" smiles and not our real ones that actually show joy within our eyes. My house is like those houses you see in the magazines; too perfect to replicate or to even be real. Those magazines always show houses. They never show homes.

Like most rooms in the house, the dining room generally feels terribly empty and far too big since it usually holds the same three people. (Except every other Saturday when Howard has dozens of business partners over) We all sit together at table, ready to dig into some lasagna.

While we begin into the delectable, cheesy goodness, I wrap my feet around Steve's ankles. I'm not sure why I do this, to be quite honest. I think it's just been a thing since we started dating. I always snake my feet around his muscular legs like a python, claiming him as my prey just before I devour him. Okay maybe that's a frightening overstatement that makes me appear slightly creepy- But regardless, I suppose I just simply find it comforting and do it, and if Steve finds no fault in that, then no one else should either.

"Anything new at school?" Howard asks, breaking the silence that had settled in the dining room. Ah yes, school- the epitome of parent to little shit I'm biologically stuck to and adopted son that I wish was mine, small talk.

"Didn't blow up anything at school." I say through a mouthful of the mess of lasagna, so it sounds more like, "Hihn buh aneetha ah at scoo."

Howard shot a nasty glare in my direction due to my lack of table manners. As per usual, I feel a burst of pride in my chest. I simply find so much pleasure in annoying others. God I'm such an ass- I love it.

Giving up on me, he turns to Steve- hope evident in his eyes, "Steve?"

"I got a B plus on a chem test." he answers with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

Howard nods in approval, "Tony?"

"Aced everything." I answer.

I am certifiably a first class genius. That probably sounds really cocky and people like Steve would roll their eyes and tell me how humble I am in a sarcastic tone of voice. But hey, I know my skills and you bet your ass I'm going to flaunt it. School has always come easy to me, ever since I was a little kid. I just sit in the chair and absorb the information with ease. I've been interested in mechanics for a long time too. Hell I even built a well working circuit board and an engine, all before my 8th birthday

To be honest, I could easily skip a grade if I wanted. Hell, I've had colleges offering me scholarships since I was in the eighth grade. But that would mean leaving Steve, which I don't think I could handle. So here I am living in New York City, dominating Shield High's AP program with my best friend (other than Steve, of course) Bruce Banner.

Howard simply nods in meager approval. Well, I wouldn't necessarily call it approval. It's more of an expectation, I suppose. I mean, it's not really difficult for me to reach his standards. To some, they may seem unreasonably high, but with my wit, I find it simple sometimes. I mean, let's all be real here- GENIUS STATUS. But I guess sometimes it would be nicer to receive more than a simple nod and maybe a less Howard-ly reaction and a more fatherly one.

But whatever, it's not like I have daddy issues or anything. I simply suffer from 'guy I'm biologically linked to that is on a first name basis with me' issues.

And like the same Gods that blessed Steve with his perfectly sculpted, sexy body, made the small talk finally come to an end. I'm beyond thankful for this. This is nearly worthy for me to say my thanks for during the Thanksgiving feast when we ask each other what we're thankful for. I'll have to remember this one.

The room returns to the easy silence filled with the clank of crystal glasses and the scrapes of forks dragging across fine china as we dig our way through the cheesy layers of the lasagna.

The silent dinner finally comes to an end and Steve and I are free to leave the room. We lift ourselves from our chairs after I release Steve's ankles from the grip of my feet. Howard calls for one of our many servants to help clean up the dining room as most rich assholes would do. They're far too "busy" to clean up after themselves so they leave it upon some other poor soul to clean up for them.

Howard mutters something about work and stocks that he must attend to, as if I really cared. Maybe I should, considering the business will be in my hands one day… Yeah nope. Still not giving an ounce of a fuck. The only thing I really care about as of now is getting into my bed with Steve and curling up against his warm body.

We make our ways slowly upstairs, feeling full and lethargic from our dinner. We walk the length of the large hallway until we reach the last door, which happens to my bedroom. Sometimes we sleep in Steve's room, other times we'll sleep in my room. There's generally no discussion of which room we shall take, we just pick a room in our mind during the day and it's like we know which room to head to. Only once have we walked in opposite directions and that was when I was held up with the stomach flu and I'm quite certain that I didn't want to puke on Steve and Steve didn't want me puking on him.

The Stark manor, as I said, is a grand place with the exception of my room. But in my defense, I think I'm doing the mansion a favor, thank you very much. Howard would call my room pigsty and would tell the maids they shouldn't have to clean up after his "slob of a son" (Although, he's contented with them cleaning up his clutter of an office) and that I should be mature enough to do it myself. But like always I ignore what he asks of me because my room is special.

Every speck of dust, empty mug that once contained highly caffeinated coffee, dirty laundry, and blueprints with my sloppy scrawl, gives my bedroom a sense of character. The posters that are slightly torn on my wall, my guitar with a broken set of strings and the graded essays crumpled up give insight to the creature that inhabits my room. My unmade bed may make questions come to one's head. Am I reckless sleeper? Was I in a rush that morning and had no time to make it? Or had I had amazingly rough sex the night before? Or was it all three? You may never know- unless you stood outside my door last night.

In all, this slop- no, these beautifully placed objects are not pigsty in my eyes. They are simply a brief reflection of who I, Tony Stark, truly am. And this whole spiel is really just a well put-together jumble of words that basically states that I, Tony Stark, am a lazy motherfucker who is far too fucking busy and lazy to clean his damned room.

But honestly, Steve could really give two shits about the state of my room. Even if it's opposed to his well-organized lifestyle and a polar opposite of his perfectly put together, lemon scented bedroom. And since Steve doesn't seem to mind the state of my room, I don't either.

I kick the door shut behind me, slipping out of my—well, Steve's sweatshirt.

"Are you ever not going to steal my clothes?" Steve asks as he watches his hoodie get added to the pile of clothes- a good bulk of which are his clothes that I have borrowed without his permission.

"Don't act like it bothers you." I say as I slip out of my jeans, leaving me in a pair of boxers, which are mine. I swear on that.

Steve makes his way over to me, his hands resting on the small of my back. A chill runs up my spine and my blood runs icy in my veins.

"It doesn't. But you never see me stealing your clothes from your well stocked closet."

"First of all, my closet isn't well stocked. My floor is. Secondly, you can't fit into my clothes. If you tried, you'd be starting and failing the trend of too-tight male crop-tops. I don't think it'd be very attractive on you Mr. Rogers, although you do certainly have a wonderful figure."

"You're such an ass."

"And you like that ass."

"I definitely do." He says with a gruff laugh as his hands slide down over the curve of said ass. Which, let me tell you, is definitely more than fine. I won't go into major detail about my spectacularly shaped ass, but I can tell you that Becky and her little friend would definitely be in awe over my ass. (A/N: If you do not get that reference you may be too young for this.)

I smile at him, and then tuck my head under his chin, which fits perfectly against his neck. It's like we're a puzzle piece and my cursed average height is a blessing since I'm dating Steve. I fit perfectly against him regardless of the position we're laying or standing in. It's like our bodies were perfected in the shape so we could be easily pieced together like a complex jigsaw puzzle.

I unwillingly yawn as Steve's scent filters my nose. Dammit. I was looking forward to some hot sex tonight.

"Sleepy?"

"Mmm. I want your dick."

"Tony!" He says with choked laughter. I smirk, already feeling heat prickle his skin. God, he's so cute when he's flustered.

"Don't act surprised."

"You're such a horny little shit."

"You love me."

"Eh."

I smack his arm, sticking out my lower lip in a playful pout.

"Of course I do."

"I'm not so sure that you do."

"I apologize, Tony."

"I think I'm going to need a double round of sex."

"How about tomorrow night? And maybe we'll do a round three."

"Hmmm," I place my hand on my chin as though deep in thought. "I suppose I can accept your offering."

"Good boy." He says, pressing his smooth lips against my forehead.

"Hey!" I say with a whine, "I'm not your sub."

"Of course, Tony. Of course." He responds in a halfhearted way, too cozy in my soft bed to give two shits about my whining.

He wraps his thickly muscled arm around my middle, nuzzling my back to his body- as usual, he's the big spoon. I mean, although I'm certainly the average physique of a seventeen year old male- Steve's infallibly toned body overpowers my average-ish body. It'd be absolutely ridiculous for me to even try being the big spoon. But whatever, I'm perfectly content with being the little spoon because I get to be nuzzled in Steve's perfection.

Our legs intertwine each other and my hips rock back so my rear lies at his hips. Steve pulls the tangled covers from the foot of my bed and drapes them over us- knowingly that with my reckless sleeping habits, I'll kick them off eventually. But hey, it's the thought that counts.

"Night." I mutter, sleep seeping into my voice as my eyes grow heavy.

"Night." He whispers back, his voice hot on the nape of my neck. If I wasn't so drained from school and shit, I'd be on my natural schedule of staying up until five in the morning pouncing on his ass. But of course, poor Tony Stark cannot get as he so desperately pleases.

Steve starts steady circular motions against my back which only serves to fuel the tiredness pressing against my mind. A yawn escapes my throat, and before I know, it my eyes have fallen shut under Steve's spell to be so goddamned perfect and cozy, and before I know it I'm completely conked out for the night with absolutely no sex. (But there's no need to threat over that- Steve always keeps his promises for eventual mind blowing sex)

xXx

The alarm blares unforgivingly next to my head, screeching at me to get off my ass and go through another shitty day at Shield High. Why the hell would I want to pull myself from this cozy bed and get dressed in clothes I've stolen from my boyfriend and face a bunch of fucking chicken shit morons who probably can't tie their shoes in a proper manner, when I could stay home with my own smarts that overwhelm the science community and get fucked to the ends of the Earth with Steve?

Now, I don't know about you, but that vision sounds much better than the first. Plus, if I mention it to Steve, I get to see him stutter and blush like the cute little bastard he is.

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvveeeee." I whine as the alarm continues to beep its agonizing tone that so many people face each morning with a sense of dread.

I feel the bed shift as Steve reaches over me, his arm stretching the length to the alarm and flicking it off.

"Get up Tony." He whispers in my ear. I only close my eyes tighter. "Tony, get up."

"How about we have sex instead? That could be my phys. ed. for the day."

"T-Tony!" He shrieks like the little prude he is deep down.

I smirk with my eyes shut, almost daring to open them just to his reddened face. "You know you promised me three rounds last night."

"Oh did I?" His hands creep down my waist and rest on my hip bones sending heat to my lower belly and chills across my shoulders. "Must've been half asleep. I don't think you had my true consent to dig that sort of information from me, Tones."

"That's not even funny." I say, my eyes flipping open at his words. "If anything, I was more out of it than you. You're giving me sex."

He starts laughing, his chin resting upon my chest. "Get up and take a shower," he glances down at my lower half. "a cold shower."

"You owe me." I say, sliding out from under him.

"You'll get it soon Tony. Be patient, young grasshopper."

"Fuck you." I say as I grab a hoodie- Steve's hoodie to be specific, and head to my bathroom.

xXx

After cleansing my body with mildly scalding water and shaving what little stubble I'd managed to grow in the last two weeks, I dressed myself in Steve's clothes that hung on my body just perfectly and headed downstairs where Steve stood by the door, fully dressed in wrinkle-free clothes and his blonde hair combed perfectly over his dashing eyes- completely opposed to my still wet hair that stuck up in spikes and my attire of a football sweatshirt that was intended to fit snugly across the span of a 6'2 muscular blonde and not a 5'8 science geek that was lean in physique due to the fact that he generally lived off highly caffeinated coffee (Which mind you, I'm supposed to avoid with the heart condition) and blueberries.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Aye aye, captain." I muttered, grabbing my book bag.

"You going to eat breakfast?" he asked.

"I've got things to blow up at Shield High, Rogers." I said with a smirk.

"Of course you do." he said shaking his head as he chuckled.

We didn't bother telling Howard goodbye because he was probably getting ready for some board meeting, or working with the flight arrangements for his business trip in Japan for some presentation that could "change the course of the whole company."

I really didn't care about the company that I was in line to take over when Howard kicked the bucket. All I knew is that for now, the stocks were in excellent state and that with my dad leaving this Friday definitely meant another huge ass party for the upperclassmen at Shield High- and underclassmen that managed to sneak in with some of their older friends at the Stark mansion.

The two of us got in the car- me in the driver side and him in the passenger side with our bags tossed in the back. I grabbed my sunglasses that I kept handy in the glove box and slipped them over my face, and flicked on the radio. I slipped one hand on the wheel and the other into Steve's left hand.

The two of us rode in silence, which was fine by me. It wasn't awkward or anything like the dinners we shared with my father. It's a good kind of silent that settles around the two of us- like we're so comfortable around each other that even when words aren't said and actions aren't made, it's evident that we love each other in some twisted, strange, ridiculous way.

I pulled into the senior lot, lucky enough to snag a spot. The senior lot is like a herd of gazelles... about a hundred scrawny ones for a population of 250 starving cheetahs. If you fail to catch one of those scrawny little gazelles, you're stuck sitting far away with your stomach growling its annoyance at your lack of food- and by that I mean you're stuck parking in one of the back lots, having to sprint to class and having your teacher yell at you for walking in just as the bell rings, looking like a sweaty mess.

I lean back, snatching our two bags, and handing Steve his own. We step out of the car, lacing our fingers with each other, nobody making any notice of the two boys that hold hands as they walk into the building.

I'll give Shield High credit for that. The population that makes up our class may be full of incompetent idiots, but they're all fairly accepting. Nobody seems to be bothered by the fact that some boys like each other's asses and some girls like to grope other girls' boobies or that some people like both boy's asses and groping girls' boobies. Well, everyone except a small handful of asshole students that have no fucking life, and the football coach who is completely oblivious to the fact that his star player- Steve, is and has been fucking the future valedictorian for the last few years.

I open our locker that we share—which, unlike my bedroom, is in an immaculate state due to the fact that Steve can't handle having a messy locker for school. We grab our books for first period- AP Physics for me and Honors History for him.

"Hey Tony. Hey Steve." Clint Barton calls out as he swaggers over with his stupid grin, Natasha Romanov, otherwise known as Nat, following him sleekly- like a cat ready to pounce on her prey. Clint and Natasha, similar to Steve and I's relationship, is completely polar opposite.

Natasha is full of grace, and smooth movements that accent her athletic build. She has pale- nearly translucent skin, with firey red hair that is cut in short curls around her heart shaped face and piercing green eyes that could easily make your heart stop in fear if you gaze into them too long. To be quite honest, if it weren't for the fact that she was my friend, (And I say that loosely because I don't doubt she wouldn't hesitate to kick my ass.) I'd be absolutely terrified of her and I would squeak and scatter the moment I saw her- like all the freshmen do.

Clint, on the other hand, is a little less graceful in his movements. He walks with a slight slouch, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He has dirty blonde hair that sticks up in spikes and piercing blue eyes. He wears a crooked smirk most of the time and is constantly cracking stupid jokes that nobody really gets or is constantly eating something that is most definitely not in the food pyramid. Without a single doubt in my mind, Clint would be hilariously overweight if it weren't for the fact that he worked out on a daily basis with Natasha.

"Hey," Steve and I say in unison, turning to face our two friends.

"I guess we're running the mile today in gym." Clint says with a groan.

"I shouldn't have to participate in that!" I say, my hand fluttering to my chest. "I suffer from a rather severe heart condition."

"You slowly jog the whole thing." Steve teases.

"I lapped you twice last time." Natasha adds.

"I could drop dead if I ran that thing! Then you would all have to drag my carcass from the track and lay it in the nurse's office where you would all have to mourn my beautiful body- all because I was forced to run the mile."

"You're such a drama queen." Steve says, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"You're so ignorant of my condition." I whine, sticking out my lower lip.

"Asshole."

"Jerk."

Then Steve kisses me firmly on the lips.

"You two are ridiculous." Natasha spits in disgust.

"Us?!" I exclaim, pointing at her and Clint. "You two threaten to kill each other on a regular basis and kick each other's asses every day at the gym. That's ridiculous."

"Wrong. I kick his ass."

"Hey!" Clint says, crossing his arms.

"You know it's true."

"Is not! I pinned you last week!"

"Yeah and that was when I had a sprained wrist, and I still managed to flip you that day."

"Screw you, Nat." Clint says, resulting in Natasha simply smirking at him, and kissing him on the cheek.

The bell then rings its three tone ring, signaling that we need to move our little asses on to class in under four minutes even if our class is on the second floor at the farthest highway or in the depths of our basement. God, high school is such an amazing place.

"See you guys in gym." Clint says, as he and Natasha head off to their first periods.

"Love you, Tony." Steve whispers to me, planting his lips against mine as a way to get me through a long period with idiot students who think they're smart enough to be in the AP classes when they all pale in comparison next to Bruce and I.

"See you in hell." I tell him, referring to gym class.

He simply laughs and makes his way to history class.

I'm about to make my way to the west wing when I realize I forgot to grab a pencil that didn't have a worn down eraser. "Dammit." I mutter to myself, as I quickly turn the dial of my locker on the numbers and open it. I scan the shelves of our endless supply of pencils for one that was well sharpened and didn't have a nub for an eraser.

"So, Stark party this weekend, huh?" Whispers a voice as I finally find a decent pencil; a voice that was easily recognized by my ear. A voice that belonged to a tall and slender male with pale skin and a gradient of freckles under his brown- almost black eyes, dark brown hair that sat smoothly on his head. A male that I had once deemed fuckable in my past, only to discover he was an abusive little shit and a certifiable ass-hat.

The biggest life ruiner that has ever ceased to walk on this planet: Tiberius 'Ty' Stone.


	2. Chapter 2: Steve

The room is eerie and the only visible light in it is the distant flames erupting from an unknown source. The glow of the cackling fire suddenly illuminates the room to life, making my reflection bounce across the room. My lungs are slowly infiltrated by the grey haze coating the atmosphere. I gasp for a breath and I'm trying desperately to get low on the ground, searching for any hint of fresh air, but there's absolutely none; the room is completely enclosed.

Panic settles over me as the mysterious flames surround me. I scream at the top of my lungs for help and I pound on the glass of the mirrors as hard as I possibly can, but my fist cannot break through. It doesn't even make a single crack. The fiery orange mass reaches closer and closer until I can almost feel the flames scorching off my skin. The air starts feeling heavier and heavier as if gigantic piles of blankets were coating over me.

All of the sudden, something grabs my leg and yanks me down with a tight grasp. The heat and flames are engulfing me. I can see my reflection hazily in the mirror before me, but it's not the same this time. It was still me… but I'm standing up and I look different. I look grim and I was pointing, laughing—but at what? I avert my eyes over to where my finger was indicating at and—

I shoot up out of my desk and slam my head against the brick wall beside me. (Ah, the struggles of being twice the size of your own seat) "Daydreaming again, are we Rogers?" James Barnes, otherwise known as Bucky, says smugly at me, curling his lips into a twisted smirk

Bucky and I have been best friends since birth, practically— actually, scratch that. Bucky had been more like a bodyguard to me before my years of rather impressive puberty. He's always been there for me, protecting me from bullies that I'd encountered as a skinny, pathetic little guy that always insisted on being strong enough to fight. Although, I will say that it usually ended up with me on the ground, only to get back up with sheer determination... only to repeat the process until Bucky would step in and whoop the guy's ass and help me up— not without snidely commenting on my apparent admiration for having my ass handed to me.

He'd always been bigger than me, that is until— and I quote Tony on this statement, "God-given puberty skills" stepped in and gave me almost a foot in height and doubled my weight in muscle mass. He's still fairly tall with light brown hair that is cut short, but sticks up in the front in a slight cowlick. He's quite muscular in comparison to most people at Shield High. He'd certainly prove to be a challenge in a fight, but I certainly wouldn't do that to him. Next to Tony, he's one of my best friends.

He's a really fun guy, yet he can be serious within seconds. He could start off cracking jokes and making sarcastic comments at one moment, and then in the blink of an eye, his face could be twisted into a nasty snarl, his pale grey eyes mirroring those of a man guilt of murder, ready to attack anybody who (Please pardon my harsh language) fucks with him or anyone he's close to.

"Oh hush." I reply, rubbing my temple. Apparently, I missed an entire lecture on the impact of the Treaty of Versailles on Germany, subsequent to World War I. Thankfully—hopefully, my teacher didn't really notice me.

I'm not much of a daydreamer, to be quite honest. There were just times—like now, for instance, where I'd have random bouts of visions… sort of. They've never really legitimately happened to me, but I suppose it's normal. I think it has something to do with my parents and how they died, but it's okay. I'm used to it.

Anyways, it's not like not paying attention in history affects me. (Dear God, Tony is really starting to rub off on me) And as terrible as this sounds coming from me, I'm honestly just prepared to leave class and go to gym class instead or maybe even "use the restroom" when, in actuality, I'd just be walking past Tony's AP Physics class, giving him the signal for us to… uh, inquire about certain affairs in the janitor's closet.

I get a little flustered thinking about it, but sometimes I just can't help myself. Tony always calls me such a prude for getting all worked up about our—er, intercourse… Well, let's just say he isn't totally wrong.

I make an attempt at muffling my giggles whilst hiding my face in sheer terror of anybody noticing how ridiculously red I look and raise my trembling hand for permission to use this so-called "bathroom".

"Excuse me?" I ask as polite as humanly possible.

"Yes, Steve?" My teacher replies, beaming at me. I find it interesting how some teachers can go from reprimanding their pupils at one minute to talking to a little 5-year-old the next. I suppose that's the reward for leaving her apples every Monday morning to brighten up a day so delirious and restless. That's another thing Tony makes fun of me for... And he wonders why all his teachers hate him!

"May I please use the restroom?"

"Of course, just sign out and take a pass" She replies, returning to her lesson.

Bucky lets out a laugh. "Going to the bathroom again, are we Rogers?"

"Hush up," I retort.

"Make sure you don't dislocate his hip this time."

"It was one—"

"Didn't he have to go to the emergency room last—"

"Okay, twice! Let it go!" I snapped.

I huffed out a breath and maneuvered my way through the maze of desks out of the classroom and down the halls to Tony's class.

As I make my way over, I notice Ty Stone walking past me with a rather hurried stride. As per usual, he always looks like he's pissed off or has a cactus shoved up his ass (Pardon my foul mouth...Tony needs to stop rubbing off on me) or something. I think that's exactly how I would describe his personality, as well.

Ty sort of gives me this menacing glare as we exchange glances— which, I happen return with a smile. If there's anything I have ever learned from my mother is not to fight fire with fire… Well, on most occasions anyways. I don't understand why Tiberius still holds a grudge over me, but I suppose there's just some people in this world who have never learned to leave the past in the past.

I stop in front of Tony's physics class and sneak a peak of him inside sitting next to Bruce Banner at the very front. I think one of my favorite things to do is watch Tony at work. (Not in that way, although I wouldn't say it bothers me entirely) He always seems full of life when he's doing something he has a longing passion for. His eyes just light up and they almost sparkle as he discovers new properties of an element or some new theorem of sorts.

Unfortunately, I feel the need to interrupt his expanding mind for my own privilege. It's okay, though, Tony is always an asshole to me so now it's my turn. (Dear Lord, I apologize for my foul mouthed-ness and lack of selflessness, but please, put forth all blame on Tony Stark for he has wronged me of my once innocent ways)

I shoot a rubber band at the window of the door (Kudos to Clint for teaching me how to shoot and aim a rubber band) to get Tony's attention and make him come outside so we can discuss important matters... within concealment of an unused janitor's closet.

He automatically looks up from where he's been working and raises his hand, using some excuse to get out of class. He takes a pass from the gray haired teacher and moseys his way out the door, and over to me.

"No fair, we were actually going to blow shit up in class today." He whines.

"Oh hush," I reply, starting towards the closet.

Tony seems sort of quiet as we walk and every time I look over at him to give him a seductive smirk or even this one eyebrow raise thing that just seems to turn him right on, his eyes just divert into a different direction. Usually, Tony would run his mouth over the course of everything that has happened in just under half an hour or start explaining the things he wishes to do to me once we reach the confines of one of our many secret spots.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I'm just kind of out of it." He replies, adding a yawn to it.

"I told you to eat breakfast this morning." I push open the door to the closet, allowing Tony in first.

"And I told you that I wanted to blow up shit today but you're not letting me, now are you?"

"You're a jerk." I smirk.

"And you're a fucking punk" He says, leaning in on his tiptoes and pressing his lips against mine rather forcefully.

"Round one?" I manage to huff out through the kiss.

"Dear God, no. This doesn't count."

"Why not?" I laugh, pulling my shirt off.

"Those are for tonight."

"Alright, Tones." I roll my eyes, pulling him in again and kissing him. I start sliding my hands down the small of his back until I reach the hem of his jeans and I continue until they're under the elastic of his boxers and tug them off until—

The day proceeds on as any other day at Shield High. I ended up making it seconds before the bell rang for history to come to an end— and then I made my way to gym with probably a little more energy than anticipated where I outran everybody in the mile and carried a sobbing and dry heaving Tony to the room of lockers. Then, of course, he coaxed me into yet another make-out session before we parted our ways to fourth period.

As any high school goes, there's always rumors spurring around. This weeks installment includes Bruce Banner punching a freshman,Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov were caught stabbing each other in the copy room, this stoner named Wade Wilson was busted for selling weed in the bathroom, and Tony Stark and Steve Rogers (Hey, that's us!) were having intercourse in various abandoned locations. Typical week for the kids of Shield High.

As the day comes to end, I find myself waiting in my usual spot on top of the hood of Tony's car while he's probably scavenging through our locker right now for his things to take home.

Tony walks out through the façade of the building, making his way towards me with his head bowed down. He's still acting pretty bizarre.

"Hey." I greet him.

"Hi..." He replies, getting into the drivers side. I reciprocate the action by getting into the passenger side of the car.

"Is everything alright?" I ask. "You seem off..."

"I told you, I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Even when you're tired, you're never this quiet."

"I'm just fucking tired, alright?" He snaps.

"You're acting funny."

"I take that as a compliment. I am funny."

"Tony.. What's up?" I keep pestering. I can tell when Tony is hiding something and it's obvious that he is.

"NOTHING, JUST SHUT UP!" He yelled.

We both fell silent and Tony kept his eyes glued on the road the rest of the way home. It wasn't often that we argued or even yelled at each other, for that matter. Most of the time, it was just one of us teasing or mocking the other and it often resulted in a make-out session or tickle fight or something like that.

Tony pulls into the gigantic asphalt driveway and just sits in the car, staring blankly ahead of him. I start to apologize but Tony begins talking, cutting me off.

"I'm sorry," He sighs. "I'm just really stressed out today. I have a fuck ton of work to do for physics and AP exams are coming up and I just really want to do as best as I possibly can because I just want to get a scholarship and go to MIT and just leave this fucking hellhole... With you of course. Then I'm probably going to be the heir of my dad's company and we'll be richer than ever because he has shit ideas with how to invest his company's money and I actually have really fucking awesome ideas, and then soon I'm going to have the title of 'Greatest Businessman of Our Time!' and then I'll be the richest man alive and those other businessmen can kiss my fucking ass and then we'll have kids maybe... Well, that's only if you want kids... If you don't, I completely understand. We'll just live together and fu—"

I plant a kiss firmly on Tony's lips to keep him from rambling on and on.

"Y-You're not mad?" He parts away, looking up at me with those big brown puppy eyes of his.

"Of course not. It's okay, Tony." I smile at him.

"O-Okay..." He replies, heading out of the car.

I follow him inside and we go downstairs to the lab so I can work on my algebra homework and Tony can work on whatever it is that he wants to blow up for the night. Nothing too special really happens in the lab other than Tony trying to seduce me with his superior knowledge of algebraic algorithms. (It doesn't sound that sexy but believe me, Tony Stark can makeanything sound sexy)

We try to refrain from having intercourse in the lab mainly because Howard comes down here a lot... Plus, the lab's entire perimeter is made out of windows, so there's really no hiding place for us.

"Boys," Howard calls from upstairs. "I got us dinner!"

"Coming!" Tony calls out, still occupying himself with his work.

"C'mon, let's go." I say.

"Hold on a sec, I'm busy" Tony responds, focused intently on a glass vile with a chemical of sorts.

"The food is going to get cold!" Howard calls out again.

"SHUT UP, HOWARD. DO YOU WANT ME TO FUCKING EXPLODE THE DAMN HOUSE?!" Tony shouts.

"GET YOUR ASS UP HERE NOW!"

"HOLD FUCKING ON!"

Through the midst of all this shouting, I just stand here like the good boy I am and pray that it'll all be over soon. Tony and Howard have a rather interesting relationship. I wouldn't say they love each other, but they don't hate each other, either. They're just kind of like those friends who insult each other 24/7, but at the end of the day, they're still going to care for each other... Even if it's in a strange, twisted way.

Tony heaves a sigh and slides his goggles off of his head which have left impressions around his eyes,wiping the grease off his forehead with it.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Uh huh" He replies, rolling his eyes and following me upstairs.

The instant I step foot inside of the dining hall, my nostrils are permeated by the sweet essence of Chinese take-out. I'm assuming Howard didn't want to go through the trouble of whipping up a full-course meal given that he's going on another weapons tour for his company tomorrow. I wasn't going to complain, though. I don't think Howard realizes that we'd much rather eat greasy fast food over a meal big enough to feed an entire village.

Tony sits across from me, immediately digging into his egg rolls without giving so much as a word or acknowledgement to Howard.

I clear my throat, attempting at a conversation, which will probably piss Tony off beyond belief. "So, you leave tomorrow?" I ask, stuffing my face in fried rice.

"Yeah, you guys will be on your own for the week... Which leads me to my house rules."

Tony let's out a groan at that remark. "Why do we still even have those? We're not five!" He whines.

"Some of us in this household still require them." Howard ripostes, staring directly at Tony.

Tony rolls his eyes. "So what are these rules that I may or may not follow?"

"You will follow them or I'll make you work as a janitor in the office building."

"BUT—"

"Continue, please." I interrupt, hoping they wouldn't get into another one of their arguments.

Howard heaves out an exhausted sigh. "Alright, there will be absolutely no parties. I don't want a phone call from the cops again."

"Why not? We're going to be celebrating your departure." Tony sneers.

"I mean it." He ordered.

Another eye roll coming from Tony. "Next law?"

"I expect the house to be the same way I left it when I get back."

"You don't have to worry about that with the infamous Steven Rogers living under our roof. He thrives for the thrill of maintaining neat and tidy homes."

"Tony..." Howard says with a stern tone of voice. I wasn't sure if Howard was either going to strangle Tony or slap him... or both.

"It's fine, Mr. Stark. It's true." I butt in again.

"See?" Tony smirks.

Howard lets out another sigh. "I expect you to follow these rules," He turns to my direction now. "And Steve, I expect you to make sure that Tony follows these rules."

"Got it." I reply.

"Alright, now up to bed you go." And with that, Howard waves a hand at our butler, summoning him to discard the cardboard boxes and put whatever remains in our fridge.

Tony and I make our way upstairs, this time choosing my bedroom to inhabit for the night.

"I don't want to go to sleep. I still have shit to do in the lab." Tony whines.

I shut the door softly behind me, biting on my lower lip. "Do you have to? Technically, we haven't even started round one."

"Hmm," Tony ponders, stroking his dusky 5 o'clock shadow even though it's 10 o'clock. "Very tempting, if I must say." He's smirking at me, sashaying over to where I stand. He trails his fingers around my back and over the collar of my shirt, pulling me down so I am level with his face.

I can already feel my cheeks flushing with red and my heart racing faster and faster with each movement we took. Every single motion was filled with grace despite how fast paced we were going; everything felt right.

The next thing I know, we're lying completely naked on top of each other underneath my sheets. It doesn't matter anymore, because all I know is that my love for Tony Stark is completely unconditional.

It's back again.

Thousands of soldiers stand before me. They all look the same and they all wear the same expression... That's because they're all the same person. Same blonde hair that hangs just above their forehead, same cold blue eyes, same worn appearance, same exact face as mine.

Except, it's not me.

They all begin laughing and tittering in unison at me, and I can feel them inching closer and closer. My eardrums are ringing so hard I feel like they're going to burst. I clutch my ears, hoping to mute the awful sound, but it only grows louder and louder. It's almost as if they're in my head.

I can feel the air getting hot and heavy and it starts to weigh me down until I'm sinking into the floor. The soldiers continue stomping towards me with their iron clad boots and the earth rumbles before me. I scream at the very top of my lungs pleading for help, only to be returned by the mockery of these men screaming back at me.

I try pushing past them but they're as hard as a rock. I attempt at thrashing back and forth but I am bound by the invisible ropes that keep me tied to the floor. I try to make myself small, in hopes that the soldiers will just graze past me. I try everything in my willpower that could set me free but I am trapped. Stuck.

All of the sudden, the soldiers start dissolving, one by one. Their laughter transforms into a hideous screech, and what remains of their clothing piles on top of me. I cannot breathe. They're suffocating me. I gasp for breath and I try to fill my lungs with as much oxygen as I can, but it feels as though I'm trying to get fresh air from a tiny straw.

Everything blacks and out, but I can still hear the cackles and screams. They're still getting louder and louder until—

"STEVE! STEVE!" I hear a voice yell. I clench my eyes even harder, hoping it wasn't another nightmare. I feel something hard whack me in the head which automatically makes me shoot up in bed. (Thankfully, I didn't knock into something this time) "Wake the fuck up!" Tony shouts.

Suddenly, I'm snapped back into reality. I can hear the alarm blaring obnoxiously loud next to my ear and the sink running in the background.

My heart is still racing and my breathing is rather erratic and ragged. I use the back of my hand to wipe the beads of sweat dripping from my forehead and swing my legs over the bed. Still naked. Of course.

"You still need to take a shower, silly." Tony laughs as he rummages through my dressers, searching for any hoodie that he can proudly advertise on his narrow chest for me.

I nod, standing up shakily and plodding to the bathroom. I can still hear Tony babbling on and on about last night— completely oblivious to my nightmare that happened just shortly after we fucked each other into the oblivion. (Can't really say I'm sorry for swearing there... It's true)

"Last night was pretty good, Steve. Well, actually it was more than good. It was fucking awesome. I didn't even know you had that in you, goddamn. Well, I guess it's always the quiet ones that you always have to watch out for. They're like those silent but deadly farts. Not that I'm calling you a fart... Or an assassin... SPEAKING OF DEADLY THINGS, HOLY FUCK STEVE MY BACK IS KILLING ME JESUS CHRIST. I SWEAR YOU'RE GOING TO SNAP ME IN HALF ONE OF THESE DAYS AND THEN YOU'RE GOING TO BE HAVING SEX WITH A DEAD CORPSE AND I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S ILLEGAL SOMEWHERE. YOU'RE GOING TO BE A FUCKING OUTLAW AND NOBODY WILL LOVE YOU ANYMORE. PEOPLE CAN SAY GOODBYE TO THE SWEET AND INNOCENT STEVE ROGERS BECAUSE HE WILL BE LONG GONE."

Tony was always irritating and his ramblings literally made you want to shoot him in the face and then shoot yourself because he's just so unbearable (I don't even know how I manage to live under the same roof as him). However, I will say that today, it kind of put me at ease.

"Sorry, I'll take it easy on you this time" I laugh.

Tony pops his head inside of the shower curtain as soon as he hears that. "Fuck no. I'm not a goddamn fucking pansy."

"Suit yourself" I shrug.


End file.
